An Evening Outside Of The Office
by Catherine Pugh
Summary: Stan and Peggy get out for the evening.


"Are you busy?"

Stan tapped on Peggy's office door one early evening. Peggy was rifling through papers and looking though her drawers desperately for a paper clip.

"Since when do you ask?" she replied, locating said clip triumphantly.

"Since I've been walking on eggshells around Ginzo lately. I'm not 100% sure he's all there."

Peggy nodded and took a sip of rye. She motioned to shut the door. Stan got up and obeyed.

"I'm getting concerned about him, too," she replied in a whisper, sitting next to him on her sofa so they could talk more quietly. "Has he been talking about the voices again?"

"I don't think it's just him being eccentric. I honestly think he's heading for a mental breakdown. He mouthed off at Cutler in the lounge, then that panic attack on the floor I told you about. For someone not on drugs, he's acting really strangely. Tell you the truth, Peggy, I'm not sure I can work with him anymore."

Peggy put her hand on Stan's arm and slowly nodded in agreement.

"I'd keep your nose to the grindstone, Stan. You aren't the problem, but I'm concerned they could lump Creative into one big Ginzo-sized lump and shoo everyone out. Remember what happened before."

"You never should have hired him. I warned you, Peggy!" Stan half-joked. "But that guy could go boi-oi-oiinnng and I'll be stuck with another x-acto in my neck or something. I guess on the plus side, I'd have to ask you to play nurse again." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Peggy giggled.

"I did a good job on your arm, though, didn't I?" she replied, turning over his arm where the knife had once gouged him. "Not much of a scar. You didn't need stitches."

"That shit was wicked, whatever was in that shot. I slept for two days straight after that. I don't remember a goddamn thing from that weekend, other than kissing you, of course."

"Is that really all you remember?" Peggy asked, slyly. "You don't remember any stoned hippie girls in the office, for instance?"

"You're pulling my chain, right?" he laughed. "I dreamt about banging some hippie, but those chicks are not really my bag."

Realizing Stan was telling the truth, Peggy started laughing and got up to turn off the radio. "Alright, I'll give you that."

Stan followed her and leaned against her desk while she arranged her 45s. He toyed with the stapler on her desk, watching her scurry around her office, putting things into folders, going through papers.

"Hey, Peggy," Stan said, going back on the sofa.

"Hmm?"

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Not really, I've got a handle on most of this stuff tonight. My realtor called during the meeting, but I missed the call so I can't call him back until tomorrow. Why, do you want to go over Manischewitz?"

"No, I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie with me tonight."

"A movie?" She sat there, stunned.

"Yeah, genius, a movie. There's an 8:00 pm showing of _Rosemary's Baby. _Looks really fucked up. I'm asking if you'd like to join me. Get out of here for a few hours."

"Oh, okay. Sure, I'd love to," she replied. "Are you hungry? I'm starving. We should get some dinner beforehand. There's a new deli up the street."

Stan grinned. "I'm always hungry. Let's go."

The deli, Amram and Sons, proved to be one hell of a sandwich joint. Stan had a Reuben, and Peggy a pastrami on rye. They chowed down eagerly as they talked about work and general gossip, laughing intermittently as Stan did his spot-on impression of Bert Cooper. Stan drew a cartoon of Bert Cooper, with his little crown-folded pocket handkerchief, on a napkin for Peggy. She doodled alien antennae over his head and wrote "I COME IN PEACE." It felt good to relax.

At 7:30 they headed over to the movie theatre. Stan talked excitedly about how great _Rosemary's _Baby was going to be – he'd read about it in the paper. He walked up to the window to pay for the ticket. He was very excited at the prospect of being able to see a scary movie alone in a dark theatre with Peggy, who freaked out at the littlest things, like spiders and centipedes.

"Sold out," replied the clerk. "Everything's sold out except one."

"You gotta be kidding me," Stan grumbled. "Are there any open shows at all?"

"This, it's almost empty," she said, pointing at the poster. Stan rolled his eyes, nodded, held up two fingers, and handed her a ten. After taking the tickets, he walked back over to Peggy, who was standing under the marquee, smiling at a cute little boy walking out with his father.

"I have some bad news," said Stan. "They're out of tickets for _Rosemary's Baby._ After all my excitement about it. But we can still see *a* show, if you promise not to kill me afterward."

"Depends on the show."

Ten minutes later, the credits began to roll for _Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang. _They had the theatre to themselves, since most people had gone to see it earlier in the month. Peggy had a great sense of humor about it, and found it even funnier that Stan sparked a joint after a while. They passed it back and forth, laughing at the movie. It grew more and more absurd by the time they'd kicked the joint, and Peggy was laughing so hard she didn't realize she'd planted her hand right on Stan's leg.

Stan leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Peggy…" He gently put his own hand on her knee, then brought it up to her face. She turned toward him and smiled, before they started making out. At first it started rough, then as they tired, they kissed more languidly, savoring the feel of each other's tongues. Peggy ran her hands through Stan's soft beard as his hands explored her breasts. She moaned his name softly in response, which caused him to pull her toward him once more and kiss more roughly.

Suddenly a goofy song number came on loudly and Peggy broke away, laughing.

"This is the most ridiculous movie I've ever made out to with anyone," she snorted.

"I really know how to pick them," replied Stan, inching his fingers up her skirt. She smiled and allowed him to explore. "This has been the most fun I've ever had on a date," he murmured.

"So you had this planned, did you?" she replied, kissing his ear.

"For once, no," replied Stan. "But I'll take what I can get. Even if it's fuckin' Dick Van Dyke. What a name."

They continued kissing each other, taking breaks here and there to watch bits of the movie, until the end credits came on and the lights came up for the janitor. They headed back to Stan's apartment.

-o0o-

"Want anything? You thirsty?" asked Stan, calling from his small kitchen. "I have some Hi-C."

"That sounds fine," Peggy replied, leafing through his book of William Blake poetry. She had no idea Stan was so into Blake. Stan returned with a tumbler full of orange liquid. "My sister and niece visited last weekend and left me with this can of bug juice," he said, trying to explain why he would have Hi-C at all.

"How old is your niece?" she asked.

Stan walked over to the fridge and produced a grade school photo of her, and handed it to Peggy.

"She's 8, in second grade. Cute kid. Her name's Molly."

Peggy got quiet for a second, staring for a long time at the picture. Stan noticed the sadness cross over Peggy's face like a cloud. She gently handed the photo back to Stan, trying to mask it.

"She IS cute," Peggy said quietly.

"You okay? You look a little down," replied Stan, putting the photo on the coffee table.

"I'm not drunk enough to talk about it," Peggy said, looking around Stan's digs. He decided not to pursue the subject.

"You have a really nice place," she said. "Are these your paintings?"

"Most of them," said Stan proudly, "Except this one. Gert did that one." He pointed to a gorgeous landscape. "That's our grandparents' farm." Looking at Peggy's puzzled face, he explained that Gert was his sister.

"Artistic family?" Peggy asked, sipping the Hi-C and realizing Stan had mixed in some vodka. She smiled as Stan winked.

"Yeah, my father was an illustrator in the 30s and 40s. He drew a lot for different magazines. That's how I got an in with DDB later on; the creative director at DDB knew him from the _Post_. Gert followed more in his footsteps; she does book covers and stuff."

Since Stan rarely talked about his family, this was an interesting revelation for Peggy. She knew Stan had a twin sister, but never knew her name or anything about her. Peggy drained her strange bug juice cocktail and leaned back on the sofa. Her mind began to drift. Stan put on a record, joined her on the sofa and pulled her into his arms. They began to kiss once again.

The kissing became more heated as Peggy took off her little bolero jacket and Stan quickly unzipped the back of her dress. She pulled it off of her, revealing her slip. The last time he'd seen this much of her, she had on some kind of underwear battle armor. This time it was simply a black satin slip with matching undergarments. She ripped off his shirt and they walked back to Stan's bedroom, hand in hand.

They lay together on his soft, comfortable bed, trying to calm themselves down instead of leaping into anything right away. The music on the record player drifted into the room. Stan slowly traced the contours of her breasts over the material of her slip, feeling them tighten and tense against his finger.

"I can't believe you're here," he whispered, leaning in and kissing her forehead. "I've wanted you to be so badly, for so long."

Peggy looked up at him, half-expecting him to be making a joke, but he was sincere. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He covered her body as she welcomed him between her legs.

"Oh, Peggy," he continued, as she shifted under him, kissing him on his mouth gently. They began to move together in unison as the kissing escalated. "I want you so badly."

"I want you," she responded quietly, in between hitched breaths and waves of pleasure washing over her. His touch was driving her wilder and wilder. If they didn't get down to it soon, she was going to explode against him. "I want you," she moaned.

"Say it again," he prompted, whispering in her ear.

"I want you, Stan," she repeated, tugging at his belt. He ripped it off as well as his trousers. They both proceeded to shed the rest of their clothing and rejoined each other, skin-on-skin.

And suddenly all barriers between them were broken. Peggy gasped against Stan as he thrust into her with exquisite force. They crashed into each other over and over, until he had her absolutely on the brink. Suddenly everything in her head went white as she plunged over, screaming for him to pound into her as hard as humanly possible. Stan came hard and fast inside her, hissing her name in her ear, and it sent her into a sudden, intense second wave of bliss. It took him by surprise and shocked him into a second wave, as well. He collapsed beside her, holding her against him as she shuddered from the experience.

"Shit, that was good," she panted. "I can't believe I held out against you for so long."

Nothing more was said as they fell asleep, entwined.


End file.
